


Messages From the Other Side

by Szept



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Transhumanism, V might not quite be herself anymore, but that doesn't mean she's going to give up on Judy, don't fear the reaper, not like Alt cares what her subprograms do anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szept/pseuds/Szept
Summary: Hope is the only thing that keeps Judy going these days. Hope that when she next reaches for her phone, she will find the one message she's been aching to see this whole time.Hope is not always the mother of fools.
Relationships: Judy Alvarez/Female V
Comments: 31
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

Judy wakes up just as tired as when she went to sleep, a regular occurence, lately. Or a daily one more like. It takes a concentrated effort of will just to reach for her phone, as has become part of her morning ritual ever since V stopped responding to her calls and messages.

She wipes the salt out of her optics before turning the device on. After two months of waiting, it’s no longer with bated breath, or even any real expectation that she will find a missed call or a message from her missing girlfriend. After two months of waiting, it’s more refusal to accept she’s lost yet another important person in her life than genuine belief something will be there that keeps her going.

Two months is a long time to worry. To cry. To turn V’s words in their last conversation inside and out, over and over and over again.

Just like all the other mornings, there is no notification from the one contact she wants to hear from. There are others, two from the girls at Lizzie’s, one from Suzie asking about the late BD batch, the other from Kyra asking if she’s up for a night out with the girls. She can’t bring herself to answer either. Her head’s just not in it. Every time she tries to get some work done, her thoughts go back to her and V’s virtu, and it’s all downhill from there. And while it’s nice that the girls are trying to cheer her up, Night City nightlife is the last thing she wants to partake in right now. She’d only fuck the night up for the rest of them.

Then, there’s the third message from an unknown number, which Judy opens more out of a tired sense of obligation than anything at all approaching curiosity. She’s not had the mind to feel much of anything, lately.

Not until she reads the four words on the screen before her.

_[Hey Judy. It’s V.]_

She shoots up from the bed, heart hammering painfully against her ribs, rushing blood a deafening roar in her ears, and hands shaking so badly she can’t type out a response the first few tries. She runs a hand through her hair with one hand, the other gripping the phone like a lifeline, before finally managing to write back.

_[are you okay]_

_[where are you]_

_[what happened]_

The next minute might just be the longest minute of Judy’s life. She stares at her screen, afraid to look away for even a moment, gnawing at her lips to the point of breaking skin, her leg restlessly jumping without pause. Finally, she gets three messages back, all three appearing on her screen in the exact same moment.

_[Alive, at least.]_

_[Hong Kong.]_

_[It’s a long story. I don’t have the time to explain it all now.]_

Hong Kong? What?

_[what do you mean you c]_

Why is she typing? Two months of silence and the first thing her girlfriend tells her is that she’s in a dead city halfway across the globe and can’t even explain why? This isn’t a conversation to be had over text.

Her call goes through immediately. No delay. No waiting for signal. Called one nanosecond, picked up next.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Last thing you said to me was you were going to face your death and then you go silent for t-two months! D-do you know-” Judy’s voice falters, and she brings a hand to her mouth to choke back the sob threatening to spill over. Good thing too. It stops her from saying something she would regret later. V must have had a reason to lay low like she did. She wouldn’t just up and leave NC and go to the ass-end of nowhere without sparing a word if she didn’t. Fucking Hong Kong?

Instead of the voice she’s been so craving to hear for so long, what answers her is another text, one taking just over a second to show up once she finishes speaking. Definitely not enough to be typed out.

_[I’m sorry but I can’t speak. I mean literally. Still haven’t figured out how to. I meant I only have a minute or two before NetWatch figures out I’m here and it’s gonna take more than that to explain everything. Only just figured out how to get through Blackwall on my own. Wanted to let you know I’m still here, regardless of what Johnny said.]_

It takes Judy a moment to parse through the message, then a few more to make any sense of it, only to be left with even more questions than before. V’s lost the ability to speak? NetWatch? Blackwall? What the hell is going on?

“What-” She swallows the lead in her throat. “What’s Silverhand got to do with all this?”

_[What. He didn’t tell you?]_

“No I- All I know is someone tore their way through Arasaka tower…” Understatement of the century. Someone attacked the tower, and in the chaos, some netrunner sent security haywire, hundreds were killed indiscriminately. Security, office workers, janitors even. “But that’s all I know. I wondered if - that was you, right?”

A series of messages once again instantly flashes to life on her screen.

 _[Yes.]_ Oh Jesus fuck. Her girlfriend’s a terrorist.

_[Fuck’s sake. Fucking asshole.]_

_[So much for him liking you.]_

_[Look. My plan was a bust (which is why I couldn’t get to you) but I’m still alive and no longer dying. Don’t worry.]_

Judy’s bark of laughter sounds hysterical even to her own ears.

“You just said you got NetWatch on your ass and you’re telling me not to worry?” She pauses, having to catch her breath after her outburst. “V, what’s going on? _Please_.”

The next message doesn’t appear instantly. In fact, given how quickly V responded before, it’s probably telling. In what way, Judy isn’t certain, but it’s significant for sure.

_[You’re gonna freak worse if I tell you than if I don’t.]_

“Worse than learning you got hundreds of people killed?”

_[Wasn’t me, back then. Or part of the plan.]_

Oh, V… what did she get herself into.

“Okay, I…” She drops her face into her hand. Does she actually _need_ to know? Doesn’t seem like V’s kidding, but fuck. It’s been hell not knowing. “I still want to know. I gotta know.”

_[Okay.]_

A few more seconds pass before V says anything more. Seconds Judy spends biting at her fingernails.

_[Turns out the biochip would’ve killed me regardless. The process was too far gone. Only way to survive was to delta outta my own body._

Judy closes her eyes, holding her breath to shakily release it a moment later. V was right, she shouldn't have asked.

_We had an AI help us. She took me and every construct from Arasaka to incorporate us into her own server in Hong Kong. Been learning the ropes this whole time.]_

AI?

“Wait, you-” she cuts off, not having the faintest where to start. “You’re in cyberspace?”

_[Hong Kong. I’m not big enough to survive in cyberspace. Just small enough to slip through the cracks. When Alt (that’s the AI) lets me, anyway.]_

_[Sorry, I gotta go. Talk to_

“Don’t you dare drop this on me and then just-”

The call ends.

For a moment, all Judy can do is stare at the screen, stunned into silence, before she drops the phone and herself back on the bed, feeling the most exhausted she’s felt the whole month.

V’s alive.

_Is she really?_

Judy turns the insidious thought over in her mind. She didn’t hear V’s voice, and the instantaneous responses felt almost prepared in advance. She would’ve thought them prepared if not for the fact they _were_ responses. That, and who would know about V and Silverhand that would feel like going the extra mile just to fuck with her now?

“V’s alive,” she tests the words on her tongue. Something flutters in her chest, warm and painful. Thawing. A twisted knot she’s gotten so used to she stopped noticing.

“V’s alive,” she breathes out, the tightness in her chest loosening just the tiniest bit. She runs her still jittery hands up her face and through her hair.

V’s alive and back to making her want to tear her hair out. She didn’t think she could be more worried, stupid of her in retrospect but hope is the mother of fools. Leave it to V to drop a bomb on her like that and just- delta.

She grabs the phone again, steeling herself for the rest of the message.

_[Sorry, I gotta go. Talk to Rogue, the fixer in the Afterlife. Tell her I have news about Johnny but I’ll give them to you, and only you, after she sets you up with a netrunner getup. I’ll find you. Love you.]_

Her heart clenches the last two words. They'd never said them to each other before. Herself, she had to make sure it was for sure before going deep like that. Some would argue letting V move in was jumping the gun already, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time to figure out how serious V was being.

The sleepless nights, the lost hours, the dozens of unreturned calls and messages, the bottles of tears - the two, long, miserable months have dispelled any doubts she’s had on her own end.

_V’s alive!_

For the first time since the morning V didn’t pick up her phone, Judy smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

For all that V is - or was, it’s hard to tell anymore - a top shelf merc, Judy had never been to Afterlife herself, nor has she ever had any inclination to visit. It’s not like Lizzie’s, not only because it doesn’t deal in BDs and isn’t _actually_ controlled by a gang. Afterlife’s a merc-only affair, no less a business place than a corpo tower, if more familiar and less sanitized of all signs of humanity.

To say she feels out of place among all the dangerous-looking people as she descends into the basement is like to say nothing at all. It’s telling how quickly people whose optics don’t stick to her ass dismiss her as of no interest after one look at her. Judy had once believed herself capable with a gun, she’s not an amateour by any means, she hits the range on the regular. However, what misinformed belief in her own ability she’d once held was dashed on the night she trailed behind V as the woman slaughtered her way through that scav haunt. If the men and women here are a fourth of what V is, she wouldn’t stand a chance against any of them.

Still, the weight of her iron is comforting against her hip, even if she intellectually knows it’s entirely moral support. It gives her that extra bit of confidence needed to approach the gorilla blocking the door without swallowing. Just a bit. Most of it comes from the resolution to speak with her girlfriend again.

The man looks down at her from his position a head above her, silent, intimidating. It reminds Judy of V when they first met, just without all the things that made her want to keep looking.

“I’m here to see Rogue. V sent me,” she announces herself.

“Hmm.” His optics flash a telltale color of a camera. “Rogue? Some lil’ girl saying V sent her your way. Yeah, got it.” He focuses on her again as he steps to the side. “Go in girlie. Wait till Rogue’s done with her client, get a drink. Whatever.”

The deafening wall of sound washing over Judy upon entry is a familiar sensation, even if the music is anything but. Instead of the rhythmic, smooth, sensual beats with the occasional mix of bone-rattling bass, it’s ear-shredding metal and screaming that assaults her hearing. Silverhand’s music. She can’t remember which track, but she looked a lot of it up.

The second thing of note is the bustle of activity. And the weapons. A veritable fucking armory by almost table occupied by mean-looking mercs packing equaly mean-looking heat. Holy shit. It’s like when V moved her stuff in times twenty.

The third are the dancers. Judy is unashamed to admit her eye catches on the basically naked bodies of the women sensually writhing in the tubes, her mind wandering to the logistics of it. Do they have internal oxygen tanks to allow them breathing in these masks? She can see no external breathing apparatus, and some are certainly decked out with enough chrome to have space to fit an oxygen tank or two in there. She’d edited an underwater BD like that, once.

She shakes her head clear of the distractions. Her mind’s been in uproar ever since V contacted her yesterday, barely able to make it through the day like a functional human being. Worse than when she was basically mourning, got no work done at all, opting instead to research everything she could about this place and the woman she’s supposed to get help from. Not a whole lot of it available on the net, though. Mercs are a closed-circuit bunch. Small wonder, that.

Feeling somewhat lost in a new environment, Judy gathers all the gusto she doesn’t feel and marches right to the barkeep.

“You seem outta your element,” The woman greets her. Well, shit. So much for keeping a front. “Sure you walked through the right door?”

Is she joking? Judy thinks she’s joking, what with the smirk and the gorilla at the entrance letting her through and everything.

“Looking for Rogue. Know where she is?”

“Yeah, that booth over there.” The woman points to the spot. “But I wouldn’t interrupt her biz if I were you.”

“Wasn’t planning to.” And she wasn’t. She’s waited two months already, a few minutes more won’t change a thing no matter how much she doesn’t want to wait a second more, whereas pissing the fixer off could make things much more difficult. Netrunner decks are quite beyond Judy’s skills to operate. Oh, she could learn, sure, given a few months she’s unwilling to wait.

“Good. Means I got time to mix you up something for the nerves. Know that look, steely eyes and jelly legs. Here.” The woman turns to grab a few bottles of suspiciously familiar liquors. “It’s a new one, made in honor of one of our regulars.”

Judy’s suspicions coalesce into painful recognition once the colors settle in the glass.

“Thanks,” she rasps out, before carefully sipping at the mixture, the memory of its suffocating sweetness all too well and alive in her mind. V will eat and drink just about anything so long as it has sugar in it, like pineapples and candied shrimp on pizza.

The drink does its job as advertised, helping Judy to work out some of the jitters from her core as the memories of V ordering the monstrosity at Red Dirt flood her mind. She was about to end her shift when the merc came in and announced she’s kidnapping her for a date. She doesn’t remember much of that night to be honest, the memory of their ride back to their pad in a Delamain sticking out for some reason. V wanted to drive back on her bike, drunk enough to forget she was drunk.

“Hey!” She’s snapped out of her reverie by the bartender waving a hand before her, which the woman follows by nodding in Rogue’s direction. “You’re up.”

“Thanks.” She downs the rest of her glass as she pays the bill, before taking a deep breath, and forging towards the booth.

Just for the bouncer in front of it to none-too-subtly bar her from entering. She returns his impassive look with a roll of her optics, leaning to the side.

“You’re Rogue?” She calls out to the woman sprawled out like she owns the place, that owns the place. She looks different from the photos, older. Not nearly old enough. Is it a face-plate or some anti-aging therapy, she wonders.

Instead of answering, the ancient fixer motions her bodyguard to let her through, appearing more interested in the glass in her hand than Judy’s appearance.

“So,” she speaks up once Judy is seated. “You’re V’s output, huh?” Judy blinks, put off by the woman knowing about their relationship. It’s not that they were being secretive or anything of the sort, but still. Did V brag to her merc pals? Judy certainly wasn’t shy about sharing the news of her catch in her own workplace. “What do you want?”

“V sent me.”

“V’s dead,” Rogue calmly responds. “The person who called you wasn’t her.”

“You mean the construct?”

The fixer’s optics shift; sharpen, for the first time giving the impression she’s actually looking at her.

“So she did tell you. Huh.” Something in the woman’s tone gives Judy the impression she doesn’t think much of her. “Well. The point still stands, it wasn’t V that called you.”

Judy’s mind whirrs in a flurry of activity. If Rogue is implying what she thinks she’s implying then… oh.

“You think it was Silverhand.”

“No. I know it was Silverhand. Son of a bitch came here after what they did at Arasaka. Whatever he wants, you can tell him to fuck off. Or to come here in person, preferably on his knees with apology gift in his teeth.”

That’s- not an image Judy wants to entertain. Not when it would be V’s body. Fuck. Coulda warned her she not only gave it up, but gave it up to her unwanted guest. The thought of V’s body being out there and used by that asshole rubs her the wrong way. Maybe it’s why her girlfriend didn’t mention it. Too much excitement for one day.

“Well. It wasn’t Silverhand that contacted me. It _was_ V.” Judy stresses the point. “She’s been laying low. Didn’t even know if she was alive until yesterday myself.”

“And you’re so sure you were speaking to a dead woman... because?”

“Because she told me she gave up her body too, that she’s got news about Silverhand, and because it wasn’t V’s body I was speaking to. Seems it all checks out,” Judy bullshits for all that she’s worth. She can only hope it’s enough for the oldest fixer in the game. Good lies are supposed to be built on truth or something right? She’s not lying, exactly, just omitting the fact a minute ago she didn’t know half of what she’s implying to know.

Rogue’s optics are steady and cold as she seems to dissemble her within their circuitry, long and silent seconds passing with Judy doing her level best not to squirm under that dissecting look.

“Alright. So, what does V want?”

Judy fights down the urge to let out a relieved breath.

“She wants you to get me hooked up to a netrunner deck.”

“What for?”

Judy shrugs. She can’t very well tell the woman the request is viable to bring NetWatch down on their asses. Wrong move. If the look she was getting a moment ago was cold, it’s become positively frigid by the time Rogue opens her mouth again.

“I’m entertaining the thought of helping you out of respect for V, but if that’s the best you can come up with you might as well delta right out of here.”

A splash of spice-hot anger blooms in Judy’s core at the words. Respect for V, she says, dismissing her request the next nanosecond.

“For talking,” she snaps. “Just talking. She’s in no position to make a normal call.”

The answer gives Rogue a pause.

“You came to the best fixer in town… just to arrange a phone call? Gotta say, wish my old input showed the same sort of dedication.” She picks up her glass with a chagrined smirk. “Fine. Give me your info and I’ll call you when I can squeeze you in. Get your eddies ready.”

“And when will that be?”

“ _When I can squeeze you in_. Don’t know when that will be, we got a lot of biz.”

The fixer’s tone reminds Judy of something, she realises. Of the NCPD. Of the judges. Of the bored, uncaring bureaucrats and corpo shits and every other jumped-up gonk without a single fuck to spare for those below them. This is what her respect for V ultimately amounts to. _When she can squeeze her in_. She’s not waiting a fucking month for the bitch to graciously grant her five minutes on the deck.

“V said she’s got info on Silverhand.”

The fixer’s optics flash, literally, as they angrily snap to Judy’s own, her grip on the glass tightening dangerously.

“And what the fuck do I care about that craven piece of shit?” Rogue explodes, not quite shouting - close enough for her bodyguard to turn for a look. The woman downs the remaining contents of her glass, then makes to refill it before thinking better of it, and drinking straight from the bottle instead.

Judy might not be a certified expert on relationships, but she knows the look and feel of a woman scorned well enough to recognize it. She’s seen it in half-drained glasses too many times.

“Sounds to me like you want to at least give him a piece of your mind.”

“Oh I’d give him more than that if he were worth the fucking trouble. Not that that’s any of your biz.”

“It could be,” Judy points out.

Rogue gives her a withering look, then draws the bottle to her lips once more, before scowling and putting it away without drinking.

“Tomorrow. Come when the Afterlife’s closing. Now get the hell out.”


End file.
